


Our Red String

by diefleder_tey



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefleder_tey/pseuds/diefleder_tey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With every winter, death must come before things can start anew.  After an unfortunate incident, Yoko and Maru deal with the concept of fate in their own ways.  Life is painfully short, a lesson Maru's learned all too well…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Red String

**Author's Note:**

> A super special thanks to Da for betaing and being my eternal ~~bloody~~ hand holder. This is based on a _very_ loose interpretation of the legend of the Red String of Fate.

  
Something went horribly wrong. Neither was really sure what, exactly. One moment they were both out on location, finishing up filming – routine work in their jobs – on the top of a mountain discussing a popular rural spot couples went to for Winter blessings, at the edge for a final shot; the next moment, everything gave way. Yoko should have known better than to say something – probably even thought as much before he opened his mouth to utter, "It's amazing that we don't get hurt doing these things," as he peered over the railing down the side of the snow-covered mountain. There was a rumbling and shaking and Maru could remember looking over and seeing Yoko's mouth parted in a shout as the ground crumbled and collapsed beneath their feet. He couldn't tell how much had broken off, but when he finally slid to a stop, he guessed it hadn't been a very large area at all – just the two of them tossed down with some equipment and everyone else safe up above.

Some equipment…and part of the railing that was supposed to protect all who visited from the dangers of the location. Maru rubbed his head, sore from the fall and covered in bruises and cuts, parts of his coat and pants ripped. He couldn't tell what in his hair was melting ice and what was blood, his fingers already stained from touching a scratch on his hand. He stood up and looked around, quickly discovering they hadn't fallen all the way – still some distance from the bottom, a good amount from the top. A ledge had snagged both them and the debris somewhere in the middle.

Pressed into an outcrop in the ledge, cradled in its protection, was Yoko – stunned and pale as the snow. Maru quickly kneeled down next to him, away from the edge, and was about to comment on how lucky they were when he noticed that Yoko's hands were covered in blood, too. Covered in blood and curled around a thick, jagged piece of metal that was most likely part of their filming equipment that had broken off in the fall and impaled itself in Yoko's side when he hit the ledge. It stuck out of his coat, having ripped through downy insulation and layers of flesh.

"Don't worry," Maru ended up saying instead, pressing himself in closer to share his body heat. "They'll probably find us soon. They saw us fall and there's only one way to go, right? It shouldn't take long."

Yoko nodded, his lips parted but silent from shock. Though there was blood on his coat and hands, the wound wasn't bleeding that heavily – the metal object in his side slowing the flow.

"It should be a couple of minutes," Maru continued, sucking in his bottom lip and looking up to the top, seeing little more than snow. "We just have to keep warm until then, right?" He clapped his hands and gave his best smile.

"Don't try so hard," Yoko finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Yoko replied, half-smirking in return.

Maru wanted to tell him no. That he was being ridiculous, he was being paranoid Yokoyama, that it wasn't that bad. He was being a pessimist when he was just hurt and they'd be picked up and flown to the nearest hospital any minute. That he'd see in just an hour and he'd feel silly for automatically assuming the worst case scenario.

But Maru couldn't. And he couldn't answer anything at all. He knew Yoko was right – he was familiar with the look and smell and it was hanging in the air over them. It was unmistakable.

Maru knew death all too well.

  


~~~~~

  
 _Japan – 1608_

Sometimes in the summer, the humidity was unbearable and having to stoop constantly in the wet muck of the rice fields made it worse. The only relief for his sweat soaked body was that the days were actually growing cooler, and soon he'd have to switch to working on radish crops. The change in temperature may have cooled his body, but the idea healed his spirit too, so much that he couldn't help but smile even as the hours began to take their toll on his muscles. Not that seeing him smile was all that rare of an occurrence. He had a bit of a reputation amongst the other peasants – some thought he was clearly stupid, others thought he was a trouble maker. He wasn't terribly concerned with either opinion.

He stood up, wiping his hand across his face to remove some of the sweat. His homeland, even in this state, was still the best.

"Maruyama! Maruyama!"

Maru's thoughts were scattered at the sound of a younger voice calling his name, the young son of one of the other peasants running toward his part of the field. Urgency was written on the boy's face and in his words, prompting Maru to meet him along the corridors of the fields. "What's the matter?"

"The retainer," the boy gasped.

He nodded and patted the boy on the head with a sheepish smile. He knew what that meant – someone wanted to see him. Immediately.

Maru quickly left the fields, with comments of, "In trouble again?" from his coworkers following after. Being summoned was becoming a habit. At best a peasant earned invisibility amongst the ruling noble class; at worst someone as high as the retainer knew one's name – and for all the wrong reasons. He expected to walk the entire distance to the castle, but was met halfway by the retainer himself instead.

Before he could comment that it was a pleasant surprise, the retainer made a grim face. "He summoned for you."

Maru nodded and followed quickly, both running in a way that would be considered undignified and certainly beneath a member of the court. Out of breath, the retainer led Maru through a series of entrances and back doors, away from the rest of the servants, until they both stood before the door of their lord's bed chambers.

"Go," the retainer said through breaths, "he's expecting you. Everyone else has been asked to leave."

Maru nodded and got on his knees, sliding the screen door hesitantly and apologizing for his rude entrance before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

The daimyo – Maru's ruler, boss, and, unbeknownst to most outside of the inner circle, friend – was laid out on his back, covers pulled up to his chin to cover his now deathly pale body, his sweaty head rested in a position so that he could look to the side without having to move. He attempted to whisper, "Maruyama," but his tongue was too thick to fight his labored breathing for the chance to speak properly.

They had all known it was coming. The previous week the daimyo had taken ill and had only gotten worse with each passing day, disease blanketing his body like winter covered the grass. The last time Maru had seen him, he seemed merely under the weather – coughs lightly peppering his conversation and a strange cloud lingering in his eyes. Maru was invited to the castle and admitted in secret only once a month, spending time with the daimyo in conversation – the two of them similar in age and humor and heart, but different in every other way. He knew what it meant that his lord wanted to see him now. It was to be the last time.

The daimyo couldn't lift his arm, couldn't speak. His breathing became heavier.

Maru kneeled next to him, sitting on his feet and resting his hands on his knees. And he waited. The retainer would have to make excuses and find a way to let him slip out before the rest of the court came in later to retrieve the body; protocol and scandal was of no concern to him. Death would not delay much longer, he knew – Maru would kneel for as long as it took.

So he waited, until the very last familiar breath.

  


~~~~~

  
It seemed like it had been at least half an hour. He wasn't sure, since neither of them had watches. Maru had taken off his undershirt from beneath all the other layers to hold against Yoko's side and stop the bleeding. He was close to Yoko, as close as he could be.

"I wanted to be on tv," Yoko said, with a small laugh. "I wanted to be on tv because people on tv get to live forever, you know?" He clicked his tongue. "So of course, tv kills me."

"Stop saying that," Maru commented. "It's only been half an hour, they probably had to find a helicopter."

"That's all I ever wanted," Yoko continued. "I did everything I could so people would put me on tv and would want to keep me there. Varieties, dramas, I don't care. Anything, even stupid things, just anything so people could see me." He coughed. "So somebody knows I existed. 'Ah, I remember him! That's Yokoyama!'"

"A lot of people know who you are."

"But it doesn't last," he replied. "In a couple of years, I'll be forgotten. Something new will come along and everything I've been on will be old and thrown away."

"No you won't," Maru reassured. "Because you won't stand for it and you'll keep appealing to fans every chance you get."

"Maru?" Yoko said, getting his attention. "Promise me you'll never forget me."

He bristled at the thought and looked away, a slight annoyance on his face and in his tone. "I wouldn't anyway." The smile reappeared. "Me too, hm?"

"What?"

"You can't forget about me either, Yuuchin."

"Kind of hard to do when you're dead," Yoko muttered.

  


~~~~~

  
 _Britannia – 43 AD_

He couldn't help but stand out in the night air, looking at the stars, away from the minor warmth that his tent provided. It helped him keep perspective on his life, he thought. It was cold and bitter there, a climate he was unused to in the Roman training grounds or at home, where he could walk around almost barefoot. The next day was to be momentous, perhaps life-changing. He would have wanted to be out under the stars anyway – somehow taking comfort in the idea that he was but a small part of something so large – but now he had an extra purpose: to pray to the stars for the luck they would need in the morning.

"I thought I'd find you out here, Maro."

He turned his head to see his fellow soldier sitting down next to him. "Labeo, couldn't sleep?"

To say they were soldiers wasn't entirely true – neither quite ranked that high and both were lucky to have some sliver of status over the servants and slaves back home, a situation Maru was grateful to have managed. They would not see much combat, but in the heat of battle they would be the most expendable.

"I overheard the centurions discussing the augur's reading," Labeo replied. "It wasn't favorable. Tomorrow is going to be a bad day, Maro."

Maru looked up at the stars and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nagging smell creeping in on him that told him Labeo was right. "Maybe an unfavorable battle is a good thing."

"That is a stupid thing to say."

"Maybe if it goes badly tomorrow, we'll turn around and finally go home," he explained.

Labeo huddled, looking cross. "I wouldn't mind that. How do these people function in this weather? I'm going back to my tent."

"Good night, Labeo."

"Maro?"

"Yes?"

"I'm still worried about tomorrow."

Maru took one more deep breath before standing up, hoping his trust in life was greater than the power of the stars or any sign read by a fortune teller. At some point, he hoped, optimism would end up being the most potent god after all.

  


~~~~~

  
"Would you shut up?"

Maru pressed the matter, still talking about it after twenty more minutes of their solitude. "I'm just saying that you could try."

"No, I can't, because there's nothing after you die, so that means there's no way I can remember something when I'm dead, not even you," Yoko continued, his breathing becoming a bit heavier with each argument.

"You don't know that," Maru said, slightly annoyed. "There's more to life than what you can see."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Well." He pushed up his sleeve and held up his wrist to show it off. "You can't see the red string, either."

"Red string?"

"It's tied when you're born," Maru explained, slightly taken aback that Yoko didn't already know. "And it's tied to the person you're fated to be with. It can't be broken and you spend your life looking for the other end of your string until you find it."

Yoko smiled, laughed, then coughed. "You're kidding, right?"

"What?"

He pointed to Maru's wrist. "First off, that's a bracelet of holy beads you bought in Kyoto. Secondly, it's orange."

"You're missing the point…."

Yoko grimaced at the pain in his side, having laughed too hard, pressing the wound a little too much. The shirt held there had slowly turned reddish, the stain spreading out to the sleeves. "Geez, I wish I had your faith in stupid things - that's really dumb, you know that?"

"It's not dumb," Maru muttered.

  


~~~~~

  
 _The US – 1916_

The conveyer belt sped by with a rickety noise, gears grinding with consistent complaints. It was easy to get dizzy with modernity, but there was something delightful about it to him. Even after long hours with grime smeared on his face, obscuring almost everything but the unbalanced single dimple, he could sometimes just watch the belt go by with fascination. The speed, the efficiency, even the products themselves – it was old hat to everyone else but still new enough for him. After all, he had a pretty good attention span when it came to turn of the century inventions.

"You're going to lose a finger, Lou," his coworker said, across from him.

Maru smiled. He was particularly proud of this alias.

Joe wasn't much better. He had a tendency to space out and even as he was reprimanding Maru, he set his long fingers down near the belt. If he wasn't too careful, he'd nick his hand – or worse, depending on when and where they were working, lose it all together if it snagged a thread from his fingerless gloves.

"I'm thinking about heading out West next," Maru told him.

Joe pulled his slender fingers back quickly, realizing his mistake. "Yeah? It's a waste of money."

"Really?"

"You'll spend everything getting out there and what are you going to do? Work in another factory."

"But it'd be nice to have a change of scenery."

Joe shook his head. "A car. That's a much smarter idea. As soon as I save up enough money, I'm getting a car and looking for a real job."

They both jumped slightly at the sound of their foreman clearing his throat. "Neither of you will make anything if you don't get back to work," he told them.

Joe nodded and then watched until he walked away, leaning over the belt to speak in a quieter voice. "And once I get a car and a better job, then maybe a girl, Lou."

"Yeah?" Maru answered with a smile, enjoying Joe's enthusiasm. "What kind?"

"I don't know that," Joe said quickly, sitting back down in embarrassment.

"Hey, if you don't find someone," Maru added, "you could always come out West with me and look for one there."

"It's a waste of money, L-"

They were both distracted by the news announcement blaring from the radio, an update on the war happening in Europe. Once the announcer finished reading his piece, Joe nodded confidently. "Hey, maybe I'll join the Army. I've heard the pay's not that bad."

Maru felt uneasy at the statement, trying to shake off the ominous air hanging around his shoulders at the thought. He huddled up, trying to get warm – the season had changed and the factory was notorious for skimping on the heat.

  


~~~~~

  
Hours. More than that – the day had passed and the sun was starting to set. And still, not a sign of anyone. No helicopters or rescue parties or anyone just shouting down the mountain or trying to call their cells – not that it would have mattered since there wasn't any service in that area. Hours had passed, Maru was almost sure, and they were still alone.

Yoko was leaned against him, his head somewhere between his shoulder and the rock. He kept trying to talk but the task was getting harder and more pointless.

"Make sure," he said, "that lots…of naked women…come."

"Yuuchin."

"I want them there, Maru," Yoko replied.

"Fine, I'll write that down and in fifty years I'll make sure we round up school girls for your funeral."

"Maru."

He turned to look his friend in the eyes, letting go of the blood soaked rag to put a hand on his leg, the feeling already cold. "What?"

"It's not fair," Yoko said.

Maru nodded. "I know," he answered. "But it wasn't because you wanted to be on tv-"

"No," he said, words breaking in his throat. "It's not fair." He tried to take a deep breath, alarmed that his lungs struggled to do so. "That you're fine." He glanced up at the great distance that they had fallen, the scattered objects all around them that had all magically missed Maru, and then glanced at his friend – his cuts and bruises minimal, his own bleeding long stemmed.

"Why," Yoko barely said, his eyes losing focus. "Why…are you…okay?"

Maru sighed deeply when Yoko exhaled his last breath, reaching over to lovingly shut his friend's eyelids once he was gone. He picked Yoko's hand up and held it again, clasping it in his own, his fingers holding on tightly to what little warmth was left. When he let go, he noticed that he had smeared blood all over Yoko's hand – a red trail wrapped around the wrist.

He took a moment to arrange Yoko properly: straightening his long, slender fingers, closing his mouth so his thick lips were no longer parted, taking part of his jacket to try to wipe some of the blood off of Yoko's deathly pale skin.

Maru put a hand to his friend's head, lovingly stroking the hair. Another deep sigh and finally, he said, "Why do you always forget?"

  


~~~~~

  
 _China – 2045_

Mass globalization made his life considerably easier. He could tell anyone anywhere whatever name he wanted and didn't have to come up with an explanation for it, or his face or actions – an explanation that he was sure to forget or mix-up later. One could only keep so many lifetimes and cultures straight for so long.

Maru picked up the piping and put it on his shoulder, keeping the sun-warmed material away from his exposed neck. The construction boom was still thriving – he'd ride it out as long as he could. It was something he could do and there was something utterly gratifying about seeing a building he personally helped to make still standing a century or so later. It had just seemed like a natural choice to go there next – though the digital revolution of the past fifty years had made things a little tricky. Especially since he had decided to be so high profile the last time he was in Japan. It was heartless to think he had long been thrown away by the popular culture, but it was also his saving grace. Claiming to be naturally baby-faced only worked for so long.

"Hey, Wan, can I talk to you for a second?" his boss said, calling him over.

"Coming." Maru put the piping down again and wiped his hands off on his pants.

"I want you to show around our new government inspector," his boss said. "People feel at ease around you, so I want you to make him feel comfortable. Keep him happy, our fate is in his hands."

"Yes, sir," Maru answered.

"He's waiting in the main office."

Maru took a moment to straighten his clothes and make sure his appearance was up to standard. He rounded the corner and opened the glass door where a uniformed man stood with his hat in his hands. His nametag read Héng and he extended his hand immediately – holding out his long, slender fingers.

"Pleased to meet you," he said through thick lips. "I'm inspector Héng, and you are?" He looked a little nervous, a slight blush betraying him as it stood out against skin as pale as snow.

Maru couldn't help but smile, his shoulders relaxing at the sight. He reached out to shake his hand, stopping when he saw a stray thread on the cuff of Héng's jacket. "Ah," he said, "excuse me." He picked it off, casting it to the side – a red thread from the insignia sewn on the uniform – before taking the hand in his and shaking it, a bittersweet expression on his face and tears forming in his eyes.

"Finally," Maru said, "you're back."

  



End file.
